River Card
by GemmyWeasly
Summary: What happens when your past comes back to haunt you? Some people believe that we are unable to stop history from repeating itself. Racetrack doesn't know it, but he may be in for an adventure all his own. With some help from newcomer Amara.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, this is my first Fan Fiction. I am open to any suggestions and hope everyone will enjoy this story.

**Disclaimer: I am _not_ the creative genius behind The Newsies.**

Chapter 1

"Extra, Extra, Hurricane hits Galveston, thousands left homeless," Amara heard a newsboy call. Amara pulled out a quarter from her clutch purse and approached the boy. For the past few weeks Amara had been following the news. She was particularly interested in the Newsie Strike. She had been fascinated by the pure nerve of the boys involved. _Imagine_, Amara thought, pushing her spectacles up her nose, _going up against powerful and prestigious Elite like Pulitzer and Hurst_.

"I'll take a paper, please. Thanks so much." Amara did not want to be nosy, but it was outside of her nature to not be curious. "You weren't by any chance involved in the Newsie Strike, were you?" She asked hesitantly.

The boy, who could not have been more than nine or ten, turned a brilliant smile on her. "Yeah, I wois there. It wois a real blowout. We knocked Pulitzer on his rear. But what do you know about it?" He asked suddenly.

"Well, if you must know, I have a special interest in the strike. I found it to be most exiting and quiet intriguing." Amara said, almost breathlessly. "The way you and the other newsies went up against…" Amara suddenly noticed how close she had gotten to the Newsie. She was almost in his face. Taking a step back she said, "Well, I am sure you of all people would know about it. Thanks for the paper. Bye." With that Amara took off to her Uncle's office building.

_I really must learn to mind my own business_, Amara scolded herself. _I really embarrassed myself_, _oh well_, with that she let the matter go. She checked the time with the pocket watch her father had left her. It had been the day before he and her mother had left to visit some relatives in Austria, of all places. Her father had entrusted Amara with his watch before leaving her at her Uncle's house.

_Almost 3 o'clock_, Amara sighed and went to put her watch back into her purse. She had just closed her clutch and pushed her spectacles up her nose, when she noticed a small riot forming in the street. _Uh-oh, I wonder what is going on_? _I should get off the street_, Amara thought shaking her head. As she was turning around she was almost knocked back by a rough pull on her clutch purse. Caught off guard, she let go and watched, stunned, as a small red haired boy ran off with her purse. Any sane person would have notified the local authorities, but Amara had a good thought chain, therefore it was only natural for her to give chase.

Amara chased the boy for what seemed like forever. He zigzagged through alleys and back streets, which made Amara extremely nervous, but now that she had started this game she was determined to win. Finally the boy dodged into a crowed plaza and took off. Amara stopped to clean her spectacles and noticed a statue in the center of the plaza. A group of what appeared to be young hooligans. They were laughing and appeared to be, no they couldn't be, but yes they were, they were indeed, singing and dancing. And right in the middle of them was a familiar red haired child.

Really ticked off, Amara marched right into the groups mist and grabbed the red heads shirt. "Please give me my purse back." She said in a calm monotone. The boy's face snapped around and a look of fear appeared on his face.

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"My, my, what do we have 'ere?" Racetrack asked Mush, Davey, and Crutchy, around his cigar. The boys followed his gaze and they noticed a girl, a rather odd girl, harassing Fingers, a new Newsie. She had long brown hair and spectacles. He had earned the name Fingers, 'cause of his fondness for stealing. That nasty habit seemed to have gotten him into a little bind. "Whadda yous say we go 'elp him out, bummers?" Kid Blink asked. The boys agreed and headed in the direction of Fingers and the girl.

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"What do you mean finders, keepers?" Amara demanded of the red haired boy. "Your lucky I did not alert the authorities." That brought the boy up short, Amara noticed with a smirk. When she looked up a group of older boys were standing in front of her, eyeballing her hand on the boys shirt.

"What appears ta be the problem, Ms." Said some smart aleck boy who was puffing away on a cigar. He was surrounded by a blonde, with an eye-patch, a muscular boy with brown hair, a tall, better dressed brunette, and a crippled boy with a silly grin on his face. "Would yous ah mind taking yer 'ands off da lad?"

"Not until this future convict returns my clutch purse. It has something of personal value in it, that I would like very much to have back." Amara told the group.

"Well, 'scuse me Ms. High n mighty, but I believe dat possession is nine tenths of da law." The same smart aleck phrased, as the rest of the group laughed. And then Amara realized that the only way to achieve victory was to outsmart these goobers. With eyes narrowed, she began to think. The young boy was afraid of the police, so maybe these older guys were.

"Very well then, you leave me no choice. Good bye fellows." Amara replied with a mean look in her eye. A sudden seriousness settled over the boys as the blonde boy asked, "Hey where are yous going. Come back," he shouted as Amara started to walk away. "Come back and we'll give yous yer stuff back."

Turning, Amara replied, "I am going to the police, I am sure you all are doing something wrong here. No matter what it is, I am sure the authorities would appreciate being notified." Amara leaned back a little and waited for a reply.

"Hey, there's no need for dat. Tell 'er why Davey." The blonde said.

Davey, apparently, said " Ohh thanks Kid. Well, for starters, Fingers is just a kid. He doesn't mean it and I am sure that he will give it back. In fact, I guarantee that he will. Second of all, we were just funning with yah. We weren't serious. Tell her your sorry, Racetrack." Davie said to the smart aleck.

"Hey would yous really call the Pols on us? I mean…" He was stopped by the muscular brunette shoving his elbow into Racetrack's stomach. "Will yous stop dat Mush, tanks, what I'm trying ta say, Ms., Is dat I am very sorry for disturbing yous. I did not mean to offend yous."

"Very well, I will let the matter go, if my belonging are returned." Amara warned still a little wary.

"Give 'er the bag, Fingers," the crippled boy urged.

"Do I 'ave to Crutchy, look at da way she is dressed, she don't need the money." Pleaded the boy.

"Dat don't matter, part o' being a good thief, is being 'onest one." Crutchy answered. With that Finger's threw the purse back at Amara and turned angrily away.

Before Amara could thank him, another boy approached the group. He had blonde hair and wore a cowboy hat. "Hey, what's going on 'ere?" He questioned.

"'ey dere Cowboy, we was just entertaining our new friend 'ere. Ah Ms… what did yous say yer name was lady?" Crutchy inquired.

"Oh," given the circumstances, Amara did not think it would be appropriate to give them her full name. "My name is Amara."

"Is dat right," Said Cowboy

Feeling a little uncomfortable Amara looked down and realized that she was talking to the leader of the NewsBoy strike. She mentally slapped her head and came up with a million questions she wanted to ask him.

"I don't mean to be rude, but weren't you involved in that strike?" Amara asked. At his nod, she continued, "What was it like, was it terribly exciting, were you scared, where did the idea come from, who was the brains of the operation, why did you all decide to do it, do you know Medda, do you know Denton, can I meet them?" She finished breathlessly. Realizing that she hadn't made any sense, she began to blush. Looking around at their faces she knew that they thought she was a loon. "Forgive me, I was a little intrigued. I am going to leave now." Amara wanted nothing more than to run from the crowd. As she turned to just that she knocked over another boy.

"Oh god's, I am so terribly sorry." Amara apologized to the boy.

"It's alright, lady. I ain't 'oirt. 'Ey, I remember you. You bought a paper from me today. Are you 'ere to interview the boys about the strike?" The boy asked.

"It's funny dat yous would ask dat Les, we was just talking about da strike." Cowboy joked.

Amara was not used to being the bud of the joke, well that wasn't true, but she stll did not like it. Deciding to stand her ground, she looked them each in the eye, then said, "That would be lovely, Les. I would very much like a first hand account of the events. Any volunteers that would like to go first?"

The news boys look around at each other not sure what to do. Amara began to tap her foot impatiently. _Well I guess that showed them_. She was about to leave when Racetrack, being smart again, stepped forward. "It would be me pleasure ta regal yous will an account of me adventures." He boasted as his friends giggled.

"Very well then, you first Mr. Track. Meet me here tomorrow and I'll speak with you. Unfortunately, I have to leave now. Until tomorrow." Amara said.

"Tomorrow it is. Goodbye, Ms. Amara." Racetrack replied.

"Who putta bee up 'er bonnet?" Race joked.

"Yah no joke, she is awfully uptight." Kid Blink answered.

"You'd be uptight to if someone stole your money." Les said defending the lady.

"Anyone mind telling me what is going on 'ere?" Cowboy, also known as Jack Kelly asked. As the boys explained what had happened this afternoon, Racetrack thought about what he would tell Amara tomorrow. He didn't want to give her a hard time, but she was so easy to annoy.

He understood her reasons for running after Fingers, but he had to doubt her sanity. He wondered why she didn't just get the Pols first thing. He decided to ask her about it when he met with her tomorrow.

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Well that is the First Chapter, let me know what you think. Thanks.

Amber


	2. Chapter 2

Hi there Ho there Fans and Those who have nothing better to do. You are about to read Ch. 2. Prepare Yourselves. Amber

**Disclaimer: Not the Mastermind responsible for the Newsies.**

Ch. 2

"Gasp," exclaimed Amara as she read The Sun and waited for Racetrack. She had just read what the riot had been about. Apparently news had arrived of the Boxer Rebellion in China. A few young Chinese men had been feeling a little rebellious and had re-enacted the whole thing. Amara was almost glad that Fingers had taken her purse, for it had allowed her to escape the riot. She read on and continued to read the article. She was totally engrossed in it and did not see Racetrack arrive.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. Amara looked up and her spectacles slid off her face and fell into her lap. Racetrack sniggered and Amara shot him a dirty look as she put her glasses back on. "Your late." She stated clearly.

"Sorry, but it coudn't be 'elped. Now, what do yous want ta know?" Racetrack asked her, around his cigar.

"Well, I understand that the strike was started as a protest against the unfair raising of the paper's price. Is that correct?" Amara started.

"Yous coud say dat. 'owever, it was also more den dat. Ah, 'oo am I kiddin, yous 'ad da right of it. Da way dey just jacked up da price da way dey did, it wasn't fair. Most of us, we coudn't make a living wid da old cost, but wid da raise, it was impossible." Racetrack said in all seriousness.

"Whose idea was it and who were the main leaders? Amara asked. For the next half hour, a pattern was established; Amara asked the obvoius questions and Racetrack smoked his cigar. Racetrack was getting frustrated because she kept asking questions she already knew the answers to. He felt more than knew, that she wanted to ask other questions but he did not know why she insisted on asking obvious questions.

Amara didn't know why she couldn't ask better questions. She already knew everything she was asking about. _Curses, think Amara, think of better questions_, she scolded herself, as she asked another pointless question.

"Look 'ere, Amara, why don't yous ask me what yous really want ta ask me? We both now dat yous already know 'oo Brian Denton is." Racetrack finally told Amara. Caught off guard, Amara could only stare at him. _How could he know that_?

"Very well then, what would you like to ask me about?"

"Ask me what yous ah dyin ta ask me. I can tell dat yous really want ta ask me someting else. I ain't sure what it is, but I tink yous should ask it anyways."

"How could you know that?" Amara asked Racetrack. He gave her a knowing look and sat back. Amara saw this and immediately felt a twinge of playful anger. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Why do you constantly smoke a cigar? Don't you know how bad you smell?" Amara laughed at Racetrack's surprised look.

"I smoke a cigar 'cause I ain't no sissy and I'm preddy cool." He said shrugging her off. "'eres a question for yous," He started, getting serious. "Whad are yous doin' down 'ere, hangin' around wid me 'n' da rest of dese lowlifes? An why didn't yous just call da bulls as soon as Fingers grabbed yer bag?" He gestured to some of his buddies, who were in the square as well.

" First off, the Police were a little busy with the riot and second off, I do not even know some of these so called 'lowlifes', why don't you introduce me?" Amara challenged back.

"Yous really want to know dem?"

"I said I did, didn't I?"

"Fine, lets go den." Racetrack grabbed Amara's hand and pulled her towards a large group of newsies. Amara was wishing she hadn't been so hasty. There were an awful lot of newsies over there and she wasn't sure she was ready to deal with them, especially if they were anything like Racetrack.

"'ave yous come ta interview me now?" Asked a boy she had met the other day, Amara wasn't sure but she thought his name was Snack Jelly.

"Nah Cowboy, she only wants ta talk ta the impoitant people." Race countered smoothly.

"Ms. Amara wanted ta meet some of yous guys. Amara dis 'ere is Jack Kelly, aldough we call 'im Cowboy." He went down the line and named off everyone there, "Skitters, Fingers, Snipeshooter, Specs, Jake, and boots." Amara looked each in the eye and tried to remember names and faces. She already knew Fingers and when she got to him, he gave her a mean look and left the group. The rest of the boys watched him leave and Racetrack continued, "Dats not all of dem, but yous will prolly meet da rest of dem lator."

"Nice to meet all of you," Amara smiled politely. They echoed her sentiments, if not a little weakly. An odd silence fell over the group and to fill that silence, Amara started talking. "I am really looking forward to meeting with some of you for my article. I truly appreciate your cooperation and I want you all to know how important each of you are to my article." This made some of them blush slightly, and a few laugh.

"Yah, yah, yah. C'mon Amara, I'll take yous ta Tibby's, where most of da meetin's took place.

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"These are amazing! Why haven't I been here before." Amara exclaimed as she grabbed a handful of french fries.

"Yah, aren't dey great. Yous shou'd 'ave seen it when we was on strike. It was a real blowout. Yah we 'ad some good times 'ere." Race told her.

"Really? Why don't you tell me about it. What happened here?"

"Dis is where we 'eld most of da meetin's. We fiost saw our picture in da pape 'ere and we sang about being da king of New York."

"I've never heard of that song. Will you sing some of it?"

"Course you ain't never hoid of it. I made it up." Race said matter of factly.

"Now I've got to hear some of it. Please, pretty please, Racetrack?" Amara practically begged him.

"Alright, 'ave some dignity. Umm, ahh, I wish I 'ad brought my 'armonica. _Look at me, I'm da king of New York_. _Suddenly, I'm respectable, staring right at cha, lousy wid stature. Da da da dada dada dada da da da, and der I be ain't I pretty, it's my city, I'm da king of New York."_ He stopped after that and Amara smiled at him.

"Gads, your a pretty good singer. I didn't know you could play the harmonica. I want to hear you play it." She told him.

"Yous gettin' awfully demandin'." He informed her, which made her blush. Then she glared at him.

"Just remember that I am interested in what you have to say. I am practically making you immortal. Just remember that." Racetrack rolled his eyes.

"Tank's modda." They talked a bit longer and Amara asked him more questions. They were just starting to get serious when someone burst through the door.

Racetrack immediately stood up and got ready to fight. Amara looked at him, then narrowed her eyes at the boy who had interrupted them. The boy looked around the room and when he saw Racetrack, he headed straight towards him. Racetrack grabbed Amara's arm and hauled her to her feet. "Ow," she whined a bit.

"Sorry, but it's for your own good." He then stepped in front of her. The boy grabbed Racetrack by his collar and acted as if to punch him. Amara saw this and cried out. She needn't have worried because Racetrack socked the kid in the stomach. The boy dropped Racetrack and he took advantage of the situation by kneeing the boy in the groin, then knocking him down.

"C'mon we gotta go." Racetrack started pushing her in the direction of the door.

"We haven't paid the bill yet." Amara stated simply.

"We 'ave bigger problems." He continued to usher her out the door. Amara, however, had other plans. She spun on her heel and started digging through her reticule. Racetrack's eyes got real big and he looked around to make sure nobody was coming at them. After what seemed like an eternity, Amara left some dollar bills on the table and Racetrack practically shoved her into the street.

Once outside, Amara started questioning him. "What was that in there? Where are we going? Who was that?" Racetrack, still pulling her along, turned towards her and sighed.

"I ken explain it all, we just got ta keep movin' 'cause I'm sure 'e'll be comin' afta us, me." Even as he said it, the boy came rushing out the door. He locked eyes with Amara, and she realized that she was in danger too. Grabbing Race's hand she allowed him to drag her across the city.

_We 'ave ta find a place ta 'ide, _Racetrack thought. _Amara ain't dat fast and she's gettin' tired._

_I can't keep up with him. I'm slowing down, _Amara thought. _We are in so much trouble._

Racetrack led her down an alley, that suddenly opened up into a busy market place. Dodging people and other obstacles, Racetrack dashed down aisles, then he swerved to his left and ran into a building. Amara was completely dazed. She did not recognize anything. When they exited the building, she saw a river. _Where are we, _she wondered. _Should I be concerned? I hardly know this Racetrack fellow and I have no clue where I am. Well, to late to change it_, she concluded shrugging.

Racetrack wasn't exactly sure how they had ended up here, but he would count his blessings. He had a feeling they were still being chased but he would not take the risk to look back. "Where are we going?" He heard Amara pant.

"Just keep runnin', I 'ave an idea." Amara was starting to feel uneasy again, but she knew she had no choice. It was Racetrack or creepy violent guy, and given the choice, Amara would choose Racetrack every time.

_We ain't gonna make it, _Racetrack realized. The guy was gaining on them and they still had bit to go before the docks. _What ta do, what ta do? _Reaching a decision, he stopped abruptly.

"Run all da way ta da docks. Once der ask fer Spot Conlons. Tell 'im I sent cha. Go, I ken 'andle dis bum." After he shoved Amara in the right direction he got ready to fight.

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Amara had no choice but to keep going. She was extremely tired and short of breathe already, but she had to get help. Racetrack had been certain Spot Conlons would help, so she kept going.

_Almost there_, she thought as the docks came into view. At first she didn't see anything, then she noticed a group of teens at the end of one pier. Making a mad dash in their direction, she continued on. When she came to a halt when a group of boys blocked her path. _Racetrack didn't say anything about this_, she thought angrily.

"Please...I...need...Spot...Race...help." Amara panted, but the boys continued to block her path. By now Amara was getting angry. She didn't need to take this. Gathering her courage she ran at the group, who in surprise jumped a bit, but they didn't move and Amara ran into one, a big one. "Oomph" She cried as she fell. Her attempt only made the boys laugh and made herself cry.

"What's 'appenin' 'ere?" Came a demanding voice.

"Check it out boss, dis goil wants ta see ya." One boy answered.

"Oh, yeah, is dat a fact?" The leader said.

"Are you Spot Conlons?" Amara sniffled a little. He looked a little suspicious, but nodded anyways. "You have to follow me, come on quick!" She snapped when he remained stationary.

"Why?" He asked simply.

"Racetrack needs your help, come one, move." With that, Amara ran back the way she had come. At the mention of his friend, Spot started to follow after her. He saw in the distance a solitary figure surrounded by three guys. Now Spot Conlons knew a fight when he saw one and Racetrack was definetely in the middle of an unfair one. Running harder and faster now, Spot passed Amara, so he could help Racetrack.

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Well there is Chapter 2. Hope you enjoyed.

Amber


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

"Hi ya, Moneybags." Race greeted the boy chasing him. Moneybags was a broker at Sheepshead Races. Race had learned a long time ago that it was best not to show any fear when dealing with Moneybag's type.

"What were yous runnin' from Racetrack? Yous know yer payments late." Moneybags informed Racetrack calmly.

"Yah, about dat. Why don't I roll ya fer it? Double or nothing?" Race offered.

"Enough of yer wisecracks, 'ave da money by Friday or we's comin' afta you or maybe dat goil you was so eaga ta protect. She'd make a fine addition ta Lenny's collection." Moneybag's taunted Racetrack.

"Yous stay away from 'er. She ain't a part of any of dis. She's betta den all of us put ta gedder." Racetrack announced.

"Oh ya, what are yous gonna do 'bout it?" Moneybags challenged.

"I'll soak ya, in fact, I'll soak ya right now." Racetrack came at him, but stopped when he noticed two more boys approaching.

"Good ta see dat yous caught up wid him, Moneybags." One guy exclaimed. "Yous 'ad me a little worried when I seen 'im gettin' away."

"As yous ken see, I 'ave da sitcheyation unda control, Knuckles." Moneybags informed Knuckles, with disdain. It was clear that they did not get along.

"Dat maybe, but now I'm takin' ova." Trying to intimidate Moneybags, Knuckles got in his face.

Racetrack knew Moneybags and Knuckles were busy amongst themselves and he also knew he was going to get out of there without a fight. Deciding there was no time like the present, he ran at the two boys with both fists flying. Racetrack managed to knock Moneybags to the ground and Moneybags was smart enough to stay there. Race took a swing at Knuckles but he missed and spun so his back to the wall. He wasn't sure about the other guy, so he wanted to make sure no one could get him from behind.

"I should be thankin' ya fer takin' care of Moneybags dere, but since yous went afta me, Sunny and me is gonna 'ave ta take care of yous." Knuckles threatened. Praying Amara would reach Spot, Race prepared himself for a fight.

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Amara stopped dead when she saw Racetrack attack. Holding her breathe, she watched as he knocked down their pursuer. She felt a strange sensation of satisfaction and grinned widely. _Go get them, Racetrack_, she cheered silently. Her smile vanished, however, when the other two boys went after Racetrack simultaneously. _Hurry up, Spot_.

Race managed to keep Knuckles and Sunny at bay until Spot arrived. Together they beat the tar out of Sunny and Knuckles. Realizing they had been beat, Knuckles, Moneybags, and Sunny ran off. Amara started to walk towards Racetrack and Spot. She got there in time to see them spit in their hands and shake.

"That's appalling." She said with a look of horror on her face. Race and Spot just laughed and completely ignoring her, they began walking back towards the docks. "Uhh," Amara muttered and followed them because she really had no choice. She still did not know where she was or how she got there.

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"Dat was betta den last year, when da scabba's tricked us. I was all... and yous were like..." He jabbed his arms in front of him and pretended to hit somebody.

"I was pretty good, wasn't I. But yous doin' wrong. I 'it 'im with me left 'ook foist. Den I gave 'im a round house kick ta da face." Spot and Race turned to face each other, then began to engage in fake battle. Amara couldn't believe her eyes. She had just been chased down by a guy for reasons unknown, then she had been humiliated in front a group of boys she didn't even know, and now Racetrack and Spot were laughing over it. Instead of loosing her temper, she took a deep breathe and trailed after them, at a distance.

Spot and Racetrack talked about random things, catching up with each others lives. Race and his friends rarely had contact with Brooklyn now that the strike was over. Apparently the hiatus didn't affect their friendship or Race's relationship with the other Brooklyn newsies. They welcomed him with open arms. They joked and reminisced about the strike. Amara stood in the background completely forgotten and it annoyed her. She was supposed to be getting an interview not waiting for Race to remember she was there. She was about to demand that Race take her home when Spot asked the question she was dying to ask.

"So, what was dat all about. I've known yous ta get inta a pickle before, but not so suddenly, and not wid a goil." He said with his eyebrows slightly raised.

"Oh, yah know, same o'd same o'd. It was just bad timin' dat Amara was dere." Racetrack said, practically shrugging the incident and Amara, off. Resigning herself to being left out, she walked to end of the pier and sat down. Amara had always loved the water and enjoyed gazing at it. There was just something about it that had appealed to her ever since her father had taught her to swim.

"Anyone fer a game of poka?" Race asked the boys around him. A few agreed but Spot declined. Race shrugged but dealt the cards anyways. Walking to where Amara sat, Spot joined her. He had a couple of things he wanted to talk to her about.

"'ey. I wanted ta talk ta yous alone. Any objections?" He questioned. Amara gestured for him to continue. "What are yous doin' 'ere? Huh?" _Way to get to the point_, Amara thought.

"I beg your pardon?" Amara asked, playing dumb.

"Yous 'oird me. What's yer angle? What game are yous playin'?" He asked nodding his head slightly.

"I'm afraid I don't understand. I really don't have an angle, other than to interview some newsies." She told him.

"What are yous intaviewing dem fer?" He managed to ask the question like he already knew the answer. And that bothered Amara.

"No specific reason, just something to have when I go back home. If I go back home." Amara said, rolling her eyes slightly and nodding in Racetracks direction. Spot chuckled and Amara narrowed her eyes. She wasn't sure what to think of this guy. He was tough, direct, and slightly concieted. But he was also a good friend and he had definitely been polite and courteous to her, so far.

"Well, not ta worry, Race will take dere money in no time. He always goes ta da track at night anyways. So yous won't be 'ere long." Spot acted as if he were letting her in on a big secret, whispering and placing a finger over his mouth. Amara smiled back at him. She wasn't sure but she thought she had just made a friend.

Feeling a little more comfortable in his presence, she asked, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Ya just did," he told her.

"Another one then?" She asked again.

"Yah, go 'ead. Can't guarantee dat I'll answer it." He sort of leaned back and got a smug look on his face.

"Why do you carry a cane around?" Spot narrowed his eyes at the question but recovered his nonchalance.

"Because I am da king of Brooklyn."_ Like that answers the question, _Amara thought.

"Oh? Well, okay. How did you get that title?"

Rolling his eyes, Spot answered evenly, "I just am. 'Nuff questions already! Sheesh!" He got up then and offered her a hand. "Race will have just cleaned them out. He'll take you home. If that's where you aim to go..." Amara let him pull her to her feet and she dusted off her backside.

"Thank you, your highness." Amara grinned at him and then added sincerely, "It has been a pleasure meeting you!" As she walked back to where Race was, she thought that her memory book needed a character like Spot. She couldn't wait to write down what she knew about him.

Race glanced up and saw her approaching. Offering her a lazy grin, he asked, "Ready ta head back?" At her nod, he said goodbye to the boys and they started back again.


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